


I ♥ Warren Gayram

by multipletabs



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Character Study, Gay Warren Graham, Gen, Homophobia, Homophobic Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 07:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21424423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multipletabs/pseuds/multipletabs
Summary: Max is… different. She’s like the quiet older sister Warren never had. She shares his taste in movies, enjoying everything from classic anime likeAkira, to old cheesy horror, and everything else in between and on the side. Warren didn’t peg Max to be a gamer at first, but now they spend most nights doing raids together in World of Warcraft. Max is everything Warren would look for in a partner; she’s perfect.Or she would be, if Warren were into girls.
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield & Warren Graham
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	I ♥ Warren Gayram

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wondered what was the deal behind the sign you find on Warren's dorm room door in episode four, and why Warren left it there. This fic is kind of an exploration of that, combine with a headcanon of mine, that Warren is gay and has been bullied because of it, hence the sign and the graffiti you can find.

The sign on the door reads _BETA PHAG ALERT_. It is nothing more than a scrawl of black permanent marker on a white sheet of copy paper.

Warren sighs. _That’s not even how you spell that word_, he thinks to himself. Warren yanks it off the door in a clean motion as he walks into his dorm.

It’s nothing worse than what he had endured at his last school, but still, Warren had thought--hoped--that things would be different at his new school. But even a pretentious, artsy school like Blackwell still has its share of homophobes, it seems. He crumples the paper up into a tight ball and tosses it at the trash can by his desk. It misses, of course, and lands among the other scattered notes and discarded pages that litter the floor of Warren’s dorm. He makes no effort to pick any of it up, opting instead to flop on his unmade bed and stare at the ceiling. Warren hopes in vain that this is bad as it will get.

* * *

Warren is ten years old. He’s watching a marathon of Star Wars on TV with his father. It’s nowhere near the first time he’s seen the movies, but they’re different now, somehow. He finds himself gazing at Han Solo’s face, wanting the camera to linger on it for even just a second longer. For the first time, Warren notices how defined Mark Hamill’s arms are in that tank top, watching as Luke Skywalker sweats during his vigorous training on Dagobah. He never really looked at them before, but they’re… nice, in a way he can’t quite explain.

“Leia in that metal bikini,” Warren hears his father say from the recliner behind him when they finally get to Return of the Jedi, “What a body, eh, son?”

Warren nods and mutters an affirmative in response, but doesn’t quite understand what his dad sees. He wasn’t looking at her body when she choked Jabba to death with that chain. He goes back to studying Luke and Han’s faces when the scene changes.

* * *

The sign is back. The message is still the same, _BETA PHAG ALERT_, but this time, it’s written on construction paper, and whoever wrote it bothered to make sure the words were clean and straight. This sign took some time, rather than the hastily made one from the other day.

“You could have at least spelled it right this time,” Warren mutters as he tears this one down. This time, he walks over to his trash can and makes sure it falls in.

* * *

“Mom, what’s a fag?” The bluntness of the question catches Warren’s mom off guard. She chokes a bit on her coffee and looks up from her papers on the kitchen counter. She looks at her son, who is working on his homework at the dinner table.

Mrs. Graham contemplates her answer for a moment, clearly unsure of how to explain such a thing to her twelve year old son. “Well, it’s… it’s a very rude thing to call a gay person,” she says after a minute.

“Oh,” is all Warren says in reply. He turns back to his math homework.

“Why do you ask, sweetie? Did someone call you that word?”

“Yes,” Warren answers, not bothering to look up from the problems on the sheet before him, “but it didn’t really bother me, I didn’t even know what it meant.”

Warren doesn’t catch the way his mom’s smile falters at that. There’s a question at the tip of her tongue, but she doesn’t want to speak it into reality. She instead walks up behind her son and runs a comforting hand through his shaggy hair.

“Ignore them, they’re just jealous because you’re the smartest kid in school.” She kisses the top of his head, and Warren gives a small laugh.

That night, Warren overhears his parents arguing in their bedroom as he steps out of the bathroom. He can’t hear much at all, but he knows the word gay when he hears it. He lays in bed thinking about why they would be talking about that until he falls asleep.

* * *

The sign still says _BETA PHAG ALERT_. It’s no longer handwritten, though. This one has been typed up on a computer and printed out. Warren almost wonders how the computer didn’t correct the mistake, but assumes that whoever is making these must be spelling it that way on purpose.

Warren tears this sign into tiny pieces and watches each piece fall into the trash can.

* * *

Warren has never been good with making friends. His middle school experiences and the time he spent at his previous high school before Blackwell had made him wary of hanging out with other guys, to say the least, and most girls found him too… weird to talk to.

He does have some, like Stella and Alyssa. They’re nice enough, but never seem fully interested in what Warren has to say. And with the way Stella likes to talk about other people at school, Warren’s not sure if he even wants to tell her anything.

Alyssa and Warren don’t spend much time alone together anymore. Someone must have seen them talking one day, because the next, a message of _Warren ♥s Alyssa_ appeared, scratched into a table in the science lab. Warren told her it was bullshit, and she seemed to realize that, but she never spoke to him alone after that.

Kate’s very sweet, but Warren always feels a tiny bit uncomfortable around her. Her religious views are no secret at Blackwell, and it makes it hard to talk to her about anything beyond schoolwork. There’s no way he could talk about World of Warcraft or Dawn of the Dead with her, let alone his own questions about his sexuality. He can sense her sadness, though, and knows she too is something of an outcast at Blackwell, but every time he thinks he’s worked up the courage to talk to her about it, she pulls out her Bible and Warren shuts his mouth.

And then there’s Brooke. Warren’s not dumb. He sees the way she looks at him sometimes, and he notices when she laughs at jokes of his that were really not that funny. He knows she has a crush on him. Why, he’s not sure. Warren has never considered himself much of a looker. But she is one of the few people at school who can go toe-to-toe with him when it comes to scientific knowledge, and she can best him in a few fields. Brooke is more than willing to watch any sort of movie with him. Warren supposes with all that considered, he can understand why she likes him.

The issue is, of course, that Warren doesn’t harbor the same feelings towards her, and it makes every conversation with her awkward. He doesn’t want to flat-out reject her and risk losing one of the few people in this school that actually talks to him, but at the same time, Warren doesn’t know if he should risk telling her that he thinks he might be gay, because who knows what will happen if that knowledge comes out. So he feigns obliviousness, pretends to be unaware of the way she brushes up against him sometimes, and hopes she’ll be move on eventually.

But Max is… different. She’s like the quiet older sister Warren never had. She shares his taste in movies, enjoying everything from classic anime like _Akira_, to old cheesy horror, and everything else in between and on the side. Warren didn’t peg Max to be a gamer at first, but now they spend most nights doing raids together in World of Warcraft. Max is everything Warren would look for in a partner; she’s perfect.

Or she would be, if Warren were into girls.

* * *

Warren tries to be invisible at Blackwell because it’s better than the alternative. Being visible only puts a target on his back. Of course when Ms. Grant asks what covalent bonds are in class, he knows the answer, but Warren keeps his hand down and his eyes on his notes, even when she passes a questioning glance over him. The last time Warren answered a question in class, someone threw a wadded up piece of paper at the back of his head. When he unraveled it, _cocksucker_ was written inside, red ink still dripping. Maybe Ms. Grant remembers that too, and that’s why she doesn’t force him to answer.

Despite all the focus on the arts at Blackwell, gym class is tragically unavoidable. Warren’s not in the best shape, to say the least, but thankfully, their physical education classes are graded on participation, and that’s the only reason why Warren’s not failing gym. As long as he at least tries, he can maintain that 4.0 GPA. But the resident Blackwell jocks use the class to make Warren’s life a living hell, because here they can get away with it. He does his best to dodge the extra hard serves aimed his way during volleyball, and shrugs off the way the jocks bump into him as they pass him on their laps.

Changing out afterwards is a whole other story. In middle school, Warren learned not to look at anyone in the locker rooms. The consequences of being caught hurt too much. But he’s still a teenager. Warren wants nothing more than to be able to check out their bodies, with their rippling muscles and toned physiques.

From the corner of his eye, he notices Nathan Prescott emerge from the showers, towels covering as much of his body as he can manage. Nathan dabs himself dry, and Warren watches the beads of water trail down his lean stomach in the quick second before Nathan throws his undershirt over himself. Nathan brings his head back up, and his eyes meet Warren’s.

_Shit_, Warren thinks as he jerks his head to the side. If one of the jocks caught him looking, they’d beat him up, but Warren could endure that hurt, just as he has in the past. Nathan Prescott, on the other hand, could end his life if he wanted to. But Nathan doesn’t say anything. Warren exhales a quiet sigh of relief and reaches into his locker to pick up his change of clothes. He doesn’t notice how Nathan’s eyes do a quick glance over his body.

Warren decides to play it safe and finish changing in one of the bathroom stalls. He ignores the jeers from the jocks calling him names and celebrating his departure. At least Warren will find safety in the privacy of the stall. Or so he thought.

On the tiles of the bathroom wall, accompanied by a crude drawing of his face, someone has written _I ♥ Warren Gayram._

* * *

Warren wants to be able to tell somebody, anybody, but can never find the right time. Sometimes, when he sits with Kate, Stella, and Alyssa at lunch, he thinks of bringing it up and getting it out and over with. But then something happens, like a jock tossing food at him and calling him a fag, and Warren decides to lock the secret away for another day.

When that sort of thing happens, and it happens often, the girls at least try to comfort him, but Warren plays it off with a smile and a laugh. He’s gotten good at hiding his hurt.

“It’s alright, I’m fine, don’t worry!” All lies Warren has become accustomed to telling. He doesn’t want them to get involved on his behalf; Warren is more than capable of enduring whatever the bullies can dish out. He’s been doing so for years now.

Warren assures the girls with another lie that their words don’t hurt because they’re not true. They don’t seem entirely convinced that he’s okay, but they don’t press the issue. Warren thinks it might be okay to tell them, given their concern over the bullying, but doubts plague his mind, and he’s still afraid of how they might react.

Warren doesn’t want to risk losing the few friends he actually has at this school.

* * *

The poster on his door has been upgraded. It’s now a blown-up photo of Warren’s face, and the text below him reads _WARNING: Beta Phag Alert_. Over it, someone has taken a pink marker and scribbled out his eyes and filled in the space around his head. A frowning emoji floats near him.

He wants to tear it down and hide in his room, but Warren’s feet refuse to move. He stands there staring at the poser for what feels like a century. It’s not until he hears the chuckles and murmurs of the other guys wandering the dorm that Warren realizes he’s attracted a small audience. He tunes out their laughter and quickly slides into his dorm. He doesn’t bother removing this sign this time; it’s all too clear by this point that whoever is behind them will just replace it with an upgraded version, and he’s afraid of what might come after this.

Warren locks the door behind him, and his back slides down the rough wood as he comes to sit on the floor. There, in the dark of his dorm room, for the first time since middle school, Warren cries.

* * *

Max feels safe to Warren. He can't put his finger on it exactly, but something about her tells him that he can be himself, his true self, around her. That he doesn’t have to hide his sexuality to her. But that alone is still not enough to grant him the confidence to say the words "I’m gay" out loud.

So, Warren has decided to delicately toe the waters. A quick mention of his love for sensitive vampire boys here, a recommendation to watch a movie for the chance to see Jean-Claude van Damme do the splits in booty shorts there, and… nothing. Warren thought those were obvious hints, but Max is either completely oblivious, or she’s picked up on them and simply doesn’t care. Warren’s too afraid to ask.

One morning, Chloe texts him out of the blue. It’s a surprise, since they haven’t talked since Chloe got kicked out of Blackwell, and even then, despite Chloe’s scientific prowess, they never spent much time together. But she explains that she kissed Max and that he’s out of the loop now. Warren knew people thought he had a crush on Max--a rumor he hasn’t tried to stop yet because at least it kept _some_ people from calling him a faggot--but didn’t know how far it had spread that even someone like Chloe knew about it. Though it's more likely Max herself told Chloe about it. The thought troubles Warren. He hopes Max doesn't believe the rumor.

“That’s nice,” Warren texts back, “I’m happy for you guys.” He adds a smiley to the message before sending. Five minutes pass, and Chloe doesn’t respond, so Warren figures she expected an argument and doesn’t know how to respond to the show of support. Warren decides to get ready for school, suddenly feeling a bit more confident about coming out to Max, if he ever gets the chance.

* * *

“You like to hurt people, huh? Like Max? Like Kate? Like me?”

Warren emphasizes each name with another kick to Nathan’s side. He sinks down to the ground and starts punching. Warren doesn’t know if Nathan is the one behind all the posters and the graffiti and everything else; there’s no way to know who’s behind any of that. But nobody else is here cowering beneath him on the ground right now.

Warren is scared by how cathartic, how… good this feels, being on the other side of a beating for once.

Nathan coughs, tears in his eyes, face bruised and bloodied, and begs for Warren to stop, and suddenly Warren’s all too aware of what he has done. He feels Max’s hands on his back as she gently guides him towards the exit. Chloe says something as they leave, but all Warren can hear are the faint apologies dripping out of Nathan’s mouth as he lays on the floor of the dorm, sobbing and broken.

Outside, Max and Chloe talk about their plans to go… somewhere. Warren’s not really paying attention. They tell him that they have to do this alone, and Warren is a little thankful for that. He doesn’t think he can trust himself around other people right now. He watches the duo leave and heads back inside the dorm.

Despite his conscience screaming that it’s stupid idea, Warren wants to apologize to Nathan. He wants to say something, anything to try and explain himself.

But the dorm is empty. There is no one to be found in the hall, and nothing but some new stains on the carpet indicate that anyone was even here. Against his better judgment, Warren risks a knock on Nathan’s door, but there’s no answer. He doesn’t even hear any movement inside. Warren retreats back to his own dorm and sits down on the bed, inspecting his blood-spattered hands.

* * *

Warren is thirteen, and doing the best he can to answer his father’s questions.

“Do you know the name of the boy who did this to you?” His father asks with a gesture towards the fresh bruises on Warren’s face. He hates lying to his parents, but Warren shakes his head no anyway. Of course he knows the kid’s name, but the principal wouldn’t believe the school’s star quarterback is a violent homophobe, and wouldn’t risk punishing him just before the big game. And if Derrick finds out Warren ratted him out, he’d only beat him again.

All that happened was Warren stared at the jock’s shirtless physique in the locker room a second too long, but that second was all Derrick needed to catch him in the act. It was Warren’s mistake, he knew that, and he vows to himself to never make that mistake again.

Warren’s dad looks like he doesn’t buy that response, but still he says, “Well, I’m hoping this won’t happen again, but if you even think someone might try this again, please go find an adult. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

Warren nods, jostling the bag of frozen peas pressed against his face.

“Now go get some rest. Your homework can wait, this time. Just focus on feeling better. I love you, son.” Warren’s dad pulls him in for a hug before sending him upstairs to his room.

As Warren sinks into his bed, he wonders if that love comes with any conditions.

* * *

Warren can hardly believe it when Max stumbles her way into the diner through the back door, drenched in rain and looking as if she’s ready to take on the storm that's currently raging on outside the Two Whales Diner. Warren wastes no time in dropping the first aid kit on the counter and moving in for a hug. She tells him she needs to speak to Joyce first, and Warren nods and goes back to fiddling with the first aid.

Warren doesn’t want to eavesdrop, and even if he did, Max’s soft voice would be impossible to hear over the crashing of thunder and the pounding of rain outside. But the concern on Joyce’s face is all too obvious, and Warren wonders if the conversation has to do with Chloe. Max ends her conversation with Joyce with a hug, and Warren watches as she ducks behind the counter to talk to Frank. Their conversation doesn’t last long, and Warren can’t make out what they’re saying either, but he understands the grief in the man’s voice.

Finally, Max makes her way back around the counter to speak to Warren. He opens his mouth to talk, but Max takes the initiative and speaks first. She apologizes for not having the opportunity to fill Warren in before now, and starts explaining this grand tale of mystery and time travel. Warren is incredulous, but keeps his mouth shut as he listens on in horror as she tells him about finding Rachel, about what happened to Nathan, about the truth of what Mr. Jefferson was doing behind closed doors.

“So that’s why I need that Polaroid from last night,” she says with a tired sigh, “so I can get back, fix all of this mess, and save Chloe.”

The movie nerd inside Warren is flipping out over this story that sounds like it came from a sci-fi flick, while the science nerd tells him it’s a crock of bullshit. But… with the snow, the eclipse, and now this freaky storm from nowhere, the apocalypse might as well be happening in front of Warren’s eyes, so he has no choice but to believe her, and he lets Max know as much.

He pulls the Polaroid out of his bag and stares down at it for a moment. “Before I give this to you, I need to tell you something first.”

“Anything, Warren.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you this for a while now, but I never knew the right words, and I’m so much of a beta nerd that I would get scared and change my mind. But now it looks like the whole world is ending, and I want _someone_ to know this before we all die. Basically, what I’m trying to say is I’m gay.” Warren stops there, gauging Max for a response. Her face is soft with understanding, and her eyes silently beckon him to continue.

“I had been trying to convince myself I wasn’t, but I knew when I realized I wasn’t into you that I couldn’t be attracted to girls,” Warren says with a small chuckle. He raises his arm to the back of his neck and rubs it raw. “N-not that you aren’t pretty or anything, but it’s just… I’m gay, and it’s time I accept that, and I just needed someone to know that, even if the apocalypse is here and we’re all going to die and--”

Max places a gentle, comforting hand on Warren’s shoulder. “Hey, Warren, it’s okay. And, to tell the truth, I kind of knew that already.”

Max’s voice is nothing like the meek girl Warren knew just a week ago; it’s strong, confident, like she somehow has figured out the exact right thing to say.

“Aw, man, you did?” A smile appears on Warren’s face; it’s small, and a little sad, but still a smile.

Max returns his smile with one of her own. “I mean, you did kind of tell me you were into sparkly vampire boys and some bodybuilder doing the splits.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess I kind of did, huh?” They share a laugh.

The smile fades from Max’s mouth quickly though, and she turns serious. “Warren, I’m really happy for you, but if you don’t mind, I really need that picture now so I can go save my girlfriend.”

Warren doesn’t say anything to that, but he’s still smiling as he places the Polaroid down on the counter in front of them.

Max pulls Warren into a hug, and it feels like comfort and acceptance Warren has never known before. Despite the damp cold of the diner and the storm, in this moment, he feels warm. He misses it when she pulls away from him.

Max locks eyes with Warren and says, “Once I find a way to undo this mess, we’re going to celebrate and talk about this some more, okay?”

“Okay,” is all Warren can say in response.

Max smiles again, gentle and faint, before turning her gaze towards the photo laying on the counter. Warren watches as she focuses on it, glaring at the Polaroid as if trying to burn a hole through it.

And then… Max is gone.

* * *

The sign on Warren’s door… is gone. Instead, there is a message written on the small whiteboard next to the door: _It worked!!!_

Warren has no idea what this message is talking about. Hell, he can hardly recall what day it is or even walking into the dorm. But he knows Max’s handwriting when he sees it. He shrugs and makes to open his door.

“I found out who was putting up those posters on your door.”

Warren didn’t realize Nathan was standing in the hallway behind him, back pressed against the wall next to his open door. Warren turns so fast to face him he nearly gives himself whiplash. Nathan’s face looks as it always does: perfect skin, no bruises, and a disinterested look.

_Why was I was expecting him to have bruises?_ Warren ponders for a second, before brushing the thought aside when Nathan starts to open his mouth again.

“I told that jackass Logan that if he keeps putting up shitty posters that I’d cut his dick off.”

Warren stares at Nathan in disbelief. Nathan Prescott actually did something nice for him? Maybe this is just a dream, but a discrete pinch to his thigh disproves that theory.

“Uh, thanks, Nathan,” he says, sounding more lost and confused than he anticipated, “I mean, really, thank you. Those posters were really starting to--”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nathan interrupts. There’s a scowl on his face, but for once, there’s no malice behind his expression. “Just… don’t expect this to be a regular thing. Those pieces of shit were a real eyesore.”

Warren nods, and Nathan turns and enters his dorm, closing the door behind him. Warren expects the door to shut with a customary Nathan slam, but it never comes.

Warren feels the phone in his pocket vibrate, and pulls it out to check the message. It’s only when he sees the screen that he realizes it’s October 13th. He doesn’t even remember what happened yesterday, but pushes that thought aside.

The text message from Max reads, “Hey, me and Chloe are waiting by her truck in the parking lot. Come join us, let’s have some fun!”

Warren smiles down at his phone and makes his way to the parking lot, not even bothering with a reply.

He wasn’t expecting the hug Max and Chloe both pull him into, and Max has a weird gleam in her eye, like she knows something and is dying to talk about it. But she just smiles at Warren as they enter Chloe’s truck. For the first time in a long while, Warren feels… accepted. He doesn’t know why, but he’s not about to question it. Maybe things will be alright after all.


End file.
